


How Could He Forget

by gayrealism



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: AU, Amnesia, Angst, Awkward, Blow Job, M/M, Multi, Real world, Sadness, Short Chapters, Smut, Unrequited Crush, a little smut, amateur writing, but jeanmarco will prevail i promise, car crash, eren jeager sucks dick, ha, hahaha, hahahahaha, hopefully it will end up happy, idek, injured marco, mostly jean and marco tbh, some erejean because i dont know what i'm doing, yes i said it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-15
Updated: 2015-08-06
Packaged: 2018-02-21 06:12:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 17,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2457806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gayrealism/pseuds/gayrealism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So Jean and Marco are roommates, and best friends. One night, on the way back from the movies, Jean blurts out something he desperately wishes he could take back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Please, Marco, Please

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first multi-chapter fic, and I'll try to keep up with it and publish a new chapter around once a week. Um, I hope you like it!

“Marco!” Jean cried, voice cracking. “Marco!” Tears streamed down Jean’s face, and his vision blurred. The metal cage surrounding them creaked, and Jean reached over to where Marco rested, his head hanging limp, soaked in red. “Marco, please!” Jean yelled, placing his hand on Marco’s shoulder. Marco didn't move.

Jean forced himself to calm down, they had to get out. The windshield had shattered on impact, the shards of it were strewn all over the crumpled vehicle. Jean unbuckled himself from his seat, and climbed out of the car through the hole that the windshield left behind. He wiped the tears from his eyes, and he reached back into the car to unbuckle Marco. Somehow, Jean knew they had to get away from the car... crashed cars were still dangerous. He had to save Marco.

Jean unbuckled Marco and tugged him out of the car, fear and desperation making his movements difficult and stiff and frustratingly slow. Jean tugged at Marco, pulling him from under the arms out of the vehicle. Jean staggered back, almost falling into the slick grass and weeds. Once Marco was completely out of the lump twisted metal and broken machinery, Jean picked him up properly, one arm under Marco’s shoulders and the other under the crook of Marco’s knees. He stumbled up and out of the ditch, towards the highway.

Legs burning, Jean set Marco down, gently as possible on the black asphalt, and got out his phone. Hands shaking, he dialed 9-1-1.

“Please, Marco,” Jean whispered. “Please, please be alive.”

****  
  


 

Jean sat, staring unblinkingly at the boy in the hospital bed. His eyes were dry, he’d cried out all of the tears his body could produce. The boy had bandages around his head, over the entire right side of his face including his eye, his right arm and several of the ribs on his right side were broken. When Dr. Hanji told him it was a miracle Marco was alive, Jean had burst into gross sobs.

Marco was alive, but he still wasn't awake.

“Please. Marco,” Jean whispered. “Please wake up.”

****  
  


 

Marco’s parents and siblings were driving down from their tiny hometown, and would be at the hospital in two hours. Jean felt his hollow chest contract, how could he face his best friend’s family, when all of it was his fault?

Knowing the Bodt family, they wouldn't blame him, They’d tell him it was an accident, a horrible accident, and that Jean wasn't at fault.

But Jean knew the truth, and felt the guilt constricting his chest, weighing down his mind.

If _Jean_ hadn't  needed to go to the midnight showing of that stupid movie.

If _Jean_ hadn't insisted on getting ice cream afterwards.

If _Jean_ hadn't made Marco drive back because Jean was too lazy to drive his own damn car.

If _Jean_ hadn't confessed his love to his best friend while he was driving.

If _Jean_ hadn't said those stupid three words as a semi truck was passing, _Marco_ wouldn't have swerved right into it.

It was all Jean’s fault. And Jean knew it. He took a shaky breath, and ran his hands through his hair. He looked at Marco, his beautiful, freckled, unrequited love lying in a hospital bed. His caring, funny, intelligent best friend wrapped up in bandages and held together by stitches and plaster. It was all his fault. Jean was sitting perfectly healthy beside him, with only a few stitches in his forehead and little scrapes elsewhere.

Jean wished he could’ve died instead. He would be in Marco's place, if he wasn't so goddamned selfish.

Jean Kirschstein absolutely loathed himself.

****  
  


 

Marco’s mom, Amalia, burst into the room, tears streaking down her rosy, freckled cheeks. Marco’s siblings, Christian, Luca, and Marcella followed behind, more slowly. None of them were crying, Jean doubted they had fully comprehended the situation yet, their solemn expressions made him think they were still processing the whole deal. Amalia fell to her knees, grabbed her son’s left hand, and kissed the back of it. She rested his hand back on the bed, but didn't let go of it. Tears crawled down her face, slow and steady.

“I’m sorry,” Jean said. Jean couldn't convey with words how much he meant it, but he tried. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Amalia looked up, her amber eyes catching his own. “It isn't your fault, Jean.”

Jean felt a lump block his throat, and looked away from her. He wasn't brave enough to tell her that yes, yes it was.

Marcella, who was only four, walked up to him. She held her hands out to Jean, her arms opened, and he tried to give her a smile that didn't turn out. He picked her up and rested her on his lap. She wrapped her small arms around his neck, giving him comfort Jean didn't deserve. He wrapped his arms around her and held on too tightly.

After a moment of quiet, Jean cleared his throat. Marcella loosened her hold on Jean and sat back on his lap. Jean tried to speak, but his voice came out as crackly. “Hey guys, why don’t we grab some ice cream or something in the cafeteria and leave your mom to hang out with Marco?”

Marco’s mom shot Jean a grateful look, and nodded, letting him know that she trusted him to watch the little ones. She really shouldn't, Jean thought. Christian and Luca nodded quietly, heading to the door, and Marcella tugged at the hem of Jean's shirt.

“Can we bring back some for Marco?”

****Jean looked down at the little girl, staring into her wide, beautiful brown eyes. Those bright, innocent, little-girl eyes that didn't know what was really happening.

"No," he said softly. "No, we can't."


	2. Who Are You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> stuff happens

  ****

**One Month Later**

 

Jean was doing laundry, singing softly to himself, when he got the call.

“Jean!” Amalia cried. Jean’s breath caught, and he froze.

“Jean, Marco’s awake!”

Jean dropped the shirt he was holding and hung up the phone. He grabbed his keys, flew out the door, and drove to the hospital where Marco waited, two hours away.

But holy shit. Marco was awake. Marco was awake.

When Jean finally found a parking space in the hospital’s packed lot, he could barely contain himself. He ran into the building with Marco’s room and had a hard time keeping himself from sprinting to Marco’s bedside. When he got there, he saw Christian, Luca, and Marcella standing next to Marco’s bed, and the atmosphere was brimming with excitement. Marco’s eyes were shut, but the oxygen mask that had been covering his face for the past couple weeks was gone. Marco was breathing on his own.

“Hey, guys!” Jean said as quietly as he could manage, pure joy oozing out of him. Marcella caught sight of him, eyes lighting up like fairy lights. She ran over to him and wrapped her little arms around Jean’s legs- she wasn't quite tall enough to reach his waist. Christian and Luca smiled, and walked over to where Jean and Marcella stood.

“Jean! Jean!” Marcella whispered, excitedly. “Marco woke up! But now he’s sleeping again but Mommy said he’s gonna wake up again real soon! But we gotta be quiet and let him sleep, ‘cause he’s sleepy from trying to get better!”

“I’ll be sure to be very quiet,” Jean whispered back, and she grew a wide grin. Jean kissed the top of her head and looked up to Luca and Christian. “Where’s your mom?” Jean asked them. “She talking to Dr. Hanji?”

Luca shook his head, and Christian simply said, “Dr. Smith.”

“Who’s Dr. Smith?” Jean asked. The boys shrugged.

Jean moved over to sit on the padded bench against the window. Marcella sat in the chair next to Marco’s bed, and Christian and Luca simply sat on the floor in the corner, where they were playing an intense game of monopoly. Marcella picked up one of her picture books that were in a haphazard pile on the floor.

“Hey, Marcella,” Jean said. Marcella raised her eyes up to him. “You want me to read that to you?” he asked.

She smiled, then slipped out of the chair and into his lap. She handed the book over to him, and he opened the cover and turned over the title page.

Marco loved to read, and just hearing the sound of turning pages in the last month had made Jean nauseous. Now, it brought a smile to his face. He licked his lips, and began to read.

“The sun did not shine, it was too wet to play. So we sat in the house all that cold, cold, wet day…”

 

Dr. Erwin Smith (Jean called him Captain America) turned out to be a rehabilitation expert of some sort who would overlook Marco’s recovery, and recommended physical therapy with a Dr. Levi Ackerman (who Jean imagined to be a Bucky Barnes) for when Marco reached a point where he could walk again.

Jean listened patiently as Dr. America talked about the details of Marco’s situation, but Jean couldn't really understand what he was saying. He’d ask Amalia when the good doctor left. Captain America was wrapping up his speech, so Jean started paying more attention, as more small words were being said.

“His head was badly damaged, as you know, with severe head trauma. But it isn't possible for him to regain vision in his right eye-”

"What?” Jean interjected.

“When the windshield shattered, and some of the glass got in his eye. We weren't certain of the extent of his eye injury until recently, when we discovered that his optic nerve was more badly damaged than we originally thought. I’m sorry, there isn't anything we can do.”

Jean was silent for a moment. “What else?” He asked, voice low.

Dr. America looked a little uncomfortable. “Well, due to his severe head trauma, Mr. Bodt may experience amnesia.”

Jean swallowed thickly, and ran a hand through his hair. “Anything else?” He asked, the words bitter on his tongue.

Dr. Smith shook his head. “Luckily, Mr. Bodt is expected to make a full recovery with all of his fractures, and all of his scars should, eventually, heal.”

Jean nodded, and choked out a word of thanks. Captain America nodded, and quietly took his leave. Jean went back into Marco’s room. It was bittersweet, Marco waking up- he would be alive but he wasn't allowed to return the waking world whole. It wasn't fair. Anger burned in the pit of Jean’s stomach, he was just _so mad_ at how unfair it was.

And amnesia? Marco might wake up with amnesia? Jean sighed; where his hope had been was now a vacant lot in his heart.

 

 

Jean rubbed his eye with the hand that wasn't holding coffee, then pulled open the door of Marco’s room. It was three in the morning, and Jean was determined to stay awake as long as there was a chance Marco might wake up himself. Jean blinked blearily, yawning, and sat down in the chair on Marco’s left side.

He looked down at Marco, and tried counting the freckles on his left cheek. _One, two, three, holy shit his eye was open._

“Marco?” Jean breathed, his chest filling with warmth and a smile growing on his face.

Marco’s brow furrowed. “Sorry, but who are you?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Erwin Smith looks like Captain America and if you don't think so then you're wrong, sorry, I don't make the rules.
> 
> Comment what you think, please ^^


	3. It'd Be My Pleasure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "If you gave me a chance, I would take it  
> It's a shot in the dark but I'll make it  
> Know with all of your heart, you can't shake me  
> When I am with you, there's no place I'd rather be..."  
> -"Rather Be" by Clean Bandit

Jean looked at his friend, his heart seizing up. “Marco?” He asked carefully.

“Who are you? Where’s my mom? My brothers? My sister?” Jean couldn't see Marco's face very well because of the bandages, but 

“They’re at your house,” Jean said distantly, not really processing Marco’s first words.

“But… Who are you?” Marco asked.

Jean felt sick. His best friend of three years, his roommate, the person Jean had lived with and studied with and watched movies with and joked with and made coffee and breakfast with and played Black Ops with and more… Marco didn't remember?

“You don’t…” Jean began, but then had to swallow through the lump growing in his throat. “You don’t remember me?”

“Remember you? Remember you from where?” Marco asked. His voice was polite, like Jean was someone he'd just met in a class or at a party, but distant and wary as well. Jean would be too with a stranger waiting for him in his hospital room. A shard of icy reality pierced Jean's heart. Marco didn't know who he was. He was a stranger. His best friend, the person he loved, _didn't know who he was._

Jean forced himself to be composed as he spoke, “It doesn't matter.”

Jean took out his phone, and dialed Amalia. Marco watched, silently. She answered on the second ring, and Jean put her on speaker.

“Jean? What is it?” She asked, her voice worried. Marco’s left eye widened, and began to water.

“Mom?” he asked, his voice cracking with happy crying.

“Marco!?” Amalia screeched, her joy palpable even through the phone.

“It’s me, Mom.”

“Oh my stars, Marco! How are you ? Do you hurt anywhere? Do you-”

“I’m fine, Mom,” he said, laughing a little, cutting her off before she worked herself up.

“Are you sure?” she asked, worrying. “Where’s Jean?”

“I’m here,” Jean said, trying to sound normal and bottle up his break down for a more appropriate time.

"Good," she said. "I'm  glad he caught you awake. Marco, I'm surprised you called me at this hour with Jean to talk to. You've left your best friend by your bedside for an entire month! Why on earth would you call me up with such a wonderful boy like-"

Marco gave Jean a strange, perplexed look. "Mom, I'm sorry, I'll have to call you back, okay? I just wanted to hear your voice and let you know I was fine. But I'm still really tired."

"Oh, I'm sorry, hun. You make sure you get lots of rest, okay? And if you need anything, just let me or Jean know. I feel a bit guilty about it, but I've had that boy running errands for me since the day you arrived at the hospital."

"Okay, mom," Marco said. "I will. Love you."

"I love you too, Mar-Mar."

Marco blushed at the nickname, and despite everything going to ruin inside of him, Jean felt his lips curl up. Jean hung up the phone and refused to meet Marco's gaze.

"Why did you say it didn't matter who you were?" Marco demanded, his voice thick with his sadness mixing with kindness and frustrated confusion.

"Because it doesn't," Jean said, trying not to let his voice break or start crying. "I was your best friend. Key word: was. As in, past tense. You don't know me, or remember me, so I'm not your best friend anymore." Jean usually knew what Marco was thinking or could tell how Marco felt, but this time, he was lost. It was like Marco wasn't Marco anymore, but a whole new person.

Marco was quiet for a moment. "I may not remember who you are yet, but that doesn't mean you're less important than you were earlier today, or a month ago, or however long ago. You've been visiting me often, haven't you? You've been helping my mom, and watching Christian, Luca, and Marcella, haven't you?"

Jean nodded, not sure where Marco was going with all of this.

Marco simply smiled. "You have been helping me, helping my family, for an entire month. Thank you..."

Silence began to grow between them, making the air thick, full of awkward tension so thick you could cut it with a knife.

Marco took a breath, after a moment of thought. "And I may not know you,  now, but I'd like to." Marco said. "Get to know you, I mean. If you'd let me."

Jean felt pain and relief and other unidentifiable emotions swirl inside of him. He wasn't sure how he felt, really, but he knew that he wouldn't dare leave Marco. "Yeah. Yes. Please," he said, tripping over his tongue.

Marco took a sharp breath and stuck out his left hand. "I'm Marco Bodt, although I guess you already knew that."

The small smile on his lips was one of Jean's favorite expressions on Marco, a pure smile that was kind and open. It was with that smile that Jean first fell in love with him.

Jean cleared his throat, and took Marco's hand in his. "I'm Jean Kirschstein, and it'd be my pleasure to get to know you again, Marco."

 


	4. Double Stuf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oreos and Supernatural and crappy hospital coffee.  
> No better way to deal with this sort of thing.

 Marco had said that he really was tired, and that he wanted to go back to sleep. It was around three thirty in the morning, and Jean had to admit he was tired too. It'd be pretty hard to sleep with some strange dude sitting right next to you, watching you like a fucking creep, Jean thought. So he excused himself to get food. Jean wandered the halls, and eventually located a vending machine by the lounge near the elevators. He slipped a dollar in one and bought a six pack of Oreos.

Too bad they weren't Double Stuf, which was both Jean and Marco's favorite. After an intense discussion with Eren, Armin, and Mikasa, they'd determined that the Double Stuf had the perfect icing to cookie ratio.

Jean smiled at the memory, remembering how even Marco had argued against Eren's stupid belief that when one is eating Oreos, one should eat all of the cookie first and then put all of the accumulated icing between two leftover cookie pieces in order to make a giant icing sandwich.

What fucking bull shit. Everyone knows the best way to eat Oreos is to simply eat them whole or to eat the top cookie first, then the bottom cookie with all of the icing on it, then move onto the next cookie.

Whatever. Jean couldn't even think the name 'Jeager' and not get annoyed. He was such a pretentious fucker. Many a time Jean would have loved to punch in Jeager's pretty little face, but Marco was always there to stop him.

Jean sighed, and sat in the lounge/lobby area, cold coffee in one hand and Oreos in the other.

He wasn't sure how he felt, besides vaguely ill. He was so glad Marco was awake, glad Marco felt fine, but... Why did Marco forget him? Was it because of what he'd said? What was he supposed to do? Would he have to get to know Marco all over again, and hope that Marco remembers him eventually?

After thinking and getting nowhere for far too long (he'd managed to consume all of his Oreos and his crappy coffee), Jean decided that he'd text Amalia in the morning, or talk to her before she went into Marco's room.

Jean shoved any thought of Marco info the back of his mind and whipped out his phone and his earbuds. Some Netflix would do him good.

Jean started Supernatural where he'd left off. He wasn't that far into it, but he loved Supernatural. He'd become slightly obsessed, watching episode after episode on his laptop as he'd sat in Marco's hospital room. Jean was on season three, and he felt slightly odd about watching it in the lounge. He'd always watched it with Marco by his side before.

Forget about Marco for now, Jean thought. Focus on Dean and Sam, and their collective badassery.

Jean rubbed his eyes, settled back into the faux leather chair, and fell asleep to the shrill screams of terror resonating in his ears.


	5. "I'll Go."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Longest chapter so far.  
> Marco's a cutie-patootie.  
> Jean diddly-darn-frickle-fracks up.  
> The poor baby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I'll never be, be what you see inside  
> You say I'm not alone, but I am petrified  
> You say that you are close, is close the closest star?  
> You just feel twice as far, you just feel twice as far."  
> -"Fake You Out" by Twenty One Pilots

"Jean!" A voice shouted, and Jean opened his eyes in just enough time to see a bright pink bullet propel itself at him. The flying object crashed into his stomach, and he struggled not to double over.

"Ooh, hey Marcella!" Jean said, peering down at the pile of pink cloth, curly brown hair, and toddler size body parts in his lap. "Why so excited?"

"Momma told us that Marco woke up again last night!"

Jean booped her nose. "He did. I was there."

"Do ya think Mar-Mar will wake up again soon?"

"I'm sure he will."

"Jean?" Christian said. Jean looked up to him. "Do you think he'll be hungry? I brought him some Oreos."

Jean smiled, then nodded. How awesome. You can never have enough Oreos. "I'm sure after a month of sleeping, he would love Oreos. Did you get Double Stuf?"

Christian frowned at me. "Well, duh, they're his favorite."

Jean hefted his chin, crossed his arms, and smiled approvingly at Christian. "Good… Let’s go give them to him.”

Jean stood, and stuffed his phone and his headphones into his the front pocket on his hoodie. It was his favorite, mostly because Marco once told him he looked good in it; it was red and had the logo of Jean and Marco’s favorite band on the chest, “The Military Police” written in bold, garish lettering on the back.

When Jean first moved in with Marco, they’d been awkward roommates, mostly because Jean had “major asshole” as his default setting when he met people. But when Marco had seen him wearing that hoodie on the second day they had been rooming together, Jean had been able to participate in normal conversation, happy conversation. After spending that hour talking about music, they’d become completely comfortable around each other. Eventually, they'd become inseparable.

Jean shook the old memories out of his head as they walked to Marco’s room. Jean couldn't think about them anymore, since Marco didn't remember them. They didn't matter, and it wasn't right.

Jean pushed open the door to Marco’s room, and allowed the kids in first. Marco was sleeping, but Jean immediately noticed the bandaging on his face had been changed. There was still bandaging wrapped around his forehead, and over his right eye, but the rest of his face was exposed. His skin was pale, his freckles contrasted starkly against his cheeks. His lips were chapped, and there was a dark circle around his left eye.

Then, there were the pink, dark scars on his cheek, jagged and rippled. They distorted his skin, raising it and indenting it in odd places. Jean felt like he was gonna puke, and forced himself to calm down.

 _It’s all your fault_ , a voice whispered.

 _SHUT UP_ , he shouted at it.

Jean tried to force a smile and addressed Amalia, who sat at Marco’s side, an unreadable expression on her face. “Good morning.” He said, as he walked to the right side of Marco’s bed.

“Good morning, Jean,” she said, tearing her eyes away from her son, and lifted them to Jean’s. “It’s hard being patient, waiting for him to wake up again. I just want to nudge him awake like I used to when he was little.”

At that, Marco’s face scrunched up, his visible eyebrow creasing down towards his scrunched-up nose. “Please don’t.”

“You’re awake!” Amalia gasped, surprise and joy taking the breath from her.

“How could I sleep with you guys making all that noise?” Marco asked playfully, nudging his sleepy self deeper into his pillow, keeping his eye closed, a contented smile on his face. Jean almost died from a heart attack right there, the cuteness was almost too much for him. Seeing Marco act like Marco again, seeing Marco’s beautiful, freckled face again, Jean bit his lip, containing himself.

Amalia playfully thwacked Marco’s arm, and Marco laughed a little and opened his eye. He pushed himself into a semi-sitting position before catching sight of the kids, who were waiting expectantly on his right side. Marcella was about to explode with all the built-up energy bouncing around inside her.

“Hey!” Marco said, his grin growing at the sight of his siblings. “Luca! Marcella! Christian! It’s great seeing you guys again!”

Marco made a gesture for them to come closer, and he hugged each of them in turn. Luca sniffled, trying not to cry because 'big boys didn't cry'. Marco mussed his hair before letting him go.

Just as Luca pulled away, Christian shoved the pack of Oreos in Marco’s face, the way little kids do when they want your attention. Marco patiently took the package from him. “Oreos? "Christian, you’re a life saver. I haven’t had food in forever, the first thing I want to do now that I’m awake is eat all of these with you guys.”

“Can we!?” Marcella and Luca said at the same time, with different amounts of enthusiasm. All of Amalia’s children looked at her, even Marco. They pleading with their eyes, but she shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips.

“We have to ask the doctors first. See if Marco’s allowed to eat. If they say yes, then you may eat the Oreos.”

“When can we ask the doctors?” Marcella asked.

Jean decided to jump in. “I’ll go ask.” All eyes in the room suddenly focused on him and Jean regretted speaking up. He broke their family moment. “I’ll go…” he said, slipping out of the room, embarrassed about intruding on their family thing. He began to locate someone who could answer his question.

He went up to the nurse’s station of Marco’s ward, and looked for Marco’s nurse, Petra. He called her over from a fax machine and asked her about their issue. She stopped what she was doing and accompanied Jean back to the room; she apparently had to tamper with the IVs first, and have Marco drink water before he could consume solid food.

Jean followed Petra into the room, and was relieved to find the tension had dissipated. Marcella smiled sadly at Jean, Marco apparently told her that he didn't remember him. At least it spared Marco of the effort of saying it himself.

Amalia stood up and went over to Jean as Petra fiddled with Marco’s machines and teased the kids. “Jean,” she said, voice low. “I am so sorry, I know how you felt about Marco and-”

“What!?” He whisper-yelled, his face heating up. “Wait, you knew?”

She smiled knowingly, “A mother always knows. And I want you to know that I’m okay with it. If you two ever get together.”

Jean felt humiliation making his cheeks burn and nodded. He knew he had to tell her, now that she knew about how he felt, He knew he had to tell Amalia about what he did. He didn't deserve her support in loving Marco, not after what he did. “When we-” He began, but his voice broke off. “That night, it was my fault we-”

“No, Jean,” Amalia said, comfort in her voice.

“Yes, it was! If I hadn't told him I loved him, he wouldn't have gotten distracted! He wouldn't have-”

Jean felt his heart stop, and remembered that they weren't alone, and that his voice had risen when he’d spoke. The whole room had heard him. Everyone was staring at him, surprised expressions on their faces. Petra looked like she pitied him. Amalia looked sympathetic. The kids looked confused, Marcella looked scared… and Marco?

Jean couldn't even look at Marco.

Jean tried to control his breathing, as tears flood his eyes. Frustrated and embarrassed as hell, he stormed out of the room. He walked as quickly as he could to his car, and flung himself into it. He stared out the windshield, breaths heavy.

“What the fuck did I do!?” He yelled, banging his fists on the steering wheel. A tear slid down his cheek, and Jean collapsed against the steering wheel, beating it with his fists.

After he was able to calm himself, Jean sniffled and started the car. He pulled out of the lot, and onto the highway.

It wasn't a smart idea, but he didn't know what else to do. So he was gonna start a fight with Eren Jaeger.

Maybe getting beating to a bloody pulp will help him feel better. Maybe it will finally give Jean the punishment he deserved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started crying while writing this.  
> I need to start the next chapter and do something to fix this.


	6. F---- Me.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean is impulsive and does things he may regret.  
> Surprise, surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "And it's not the answer but I can't carry on  
> I give my best smile, my last dime  
> But I'm always getting wrong  
> It's not because I'm young, or from a broken home  
> Maybe I just fight 'cause I don't know where I belong.  
> Y'know, Devils don't fly."  
> -"Devils Don't Fly" by Natalia Kills

Jean wasn't crying when he pulled into the parking lot outside Eren Jaeger's dorm. Blood pumping, Jean jumped out of the car and stormed into the building. He had tunnel vision, just one punch on Eren Jaeger and Jean would get the shit beat out of him. He stormed down the halls, finally finding Eren's room. He pounded his fist against the door.

Eren Jaeger opened the door, a confused look on his face. “What the fuck-”

Jean didn't let him finish, slamming his knuckles into Jaeger's face. A fire ignited in Eren's eyes and he didn't hesitate to pounce on Jean. Jaeger tackled the taller boy, pinned him, and started whaling on his face. Jean struggled to fight back, but part of him just wanted to lay down and take it. The angry part of him didn't let that happen, and ripped an arm free and landed a punch in Eren's gut. Taking advantage of the fact that Eren was temporarily distracted, Jean turned the tides and got on top of Eren. Eren gathered his wits again, and seized Jean’s wrist before Jean could land another punch.

“Jean, what the fuck!” Jaeger yelled. “The fuck is your problem?” Jaeger wiggled a leg free and kneed Jean in the tender inside of his left thigh, and knocked him off balance. Jaeger quickly regained dominance, and Jean let the fight drain out of him and into the floor as Eren pinned Jean’s arms above his head.

Jean sniffed, and stared Eren down.

Eren slightly relaxed his hold on Jean’s wrists, realizing Jean wasn't gonna fight anymore. The two stayed that way in silence for a long moment, Eren with a knee on either side of Jean’s hips, pinning Jean under him. Their breathing was ragged, and Eren's face was inches away from Jean's.

Jean impulsively raised his head, and kissed Eren. Eren gasped at first, but Jean sealed his lips firmly around Eren's. Eren accepted it, not reciprocating but not denying it either. _But_ _Marco_ , a small voice protested. Jean shoved that thought down. He wanted to forget Marco, forget he loved Marco, and pretend for a little bit that this pain wasn't there.

Eventually, Eren broke away, confused. He tightened his grip around Jean’s wrists. Jean flicked his tongue over the cut in his lip, noticing Eren glance down to them before he looked back up to stare into Jean’s eyes.

“What-”

“Fuck me,” Jean said, begging shamelessly. “Please.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahahaha I don't know what I'm doing anymore please don't hate me.


	7. The Fuck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean knows its a bad idea, but there's an ache in his chest that demands to be filled with sex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I re-wrote this damn thing so many times.  
> I hope it is satisfactory.

“What?” Eren stared at Jean as if he’d just asked the person he hated most in the world to screw him. Oh, wait, he had. “What? No, Jean, what the fuck.”

Jean sighed in frustration. “Can we at least talk about this in your room?”

Eren stood up, and extended his hand to help Jean up. “Yeah, sure, I guess. Armin is working.”

“Thanks,” Jean said, using Eren's hand to pull himself off the floor. He didn't allow himself to think. He suppressed all thought, or tried to. Thoughts of recent events persistently nudged at the edges of his consciousness.

Eren held the door open and motioned Jean inside. Jean went in and stood with his crossed over his chest beside the Eren's bed, which was unmade and had a stray pair of boxers on them. He knew it was Eren's because there was no way his was as meticulously kept as the other bed in the room.

Eren sat on the edge of his bed, and waited for Jean to give whatever weird-ass explanation he was going to give.

Jean, apparently, wasn't in the mood to give one. “Fuck me.” He demanded.

“Why?”

“Does the reason matter?”

“You hate me.”

At this, Jean turned to look at Eren. “I don’t hate you.”

Eren's brows creased, confused, “But-”

“I just treat everyone like shit because I suck with people. I actually don’t hate you. I even agree with you sometimes.” Jean approached Eren, but slowly. “Sometimes, I even think its hot how intense you are.”

Eren leaned back, away from Jean, his face flushed. His eyes fell away from Jean, down towards the floor. “You don’t like me-”

Jean put his knee in between Eren's legs, dangerously close to touching him. Jean could feel the other boy's body heat radiate in the space between them. “Right now,” Jean said, staring into Eren's eyes, eyes that were blue and green and beautiful and only an inch away from his own. Their breaths intermingled, and Jean noticed Eren swallow nervously. “Right now, I do.”

Jean leaned in more, but this time, Eren didn't retreat when Jean’s lips pressed onto his. Eren gave into them, and after a moment’s hesitation, Eren kissed back. Their noses brushed, and Jean opened his eyes to see Eren's burning right back at him. Jean pushed Eren down against the bed, then pulled off his hoodie, throwing it on the floor. He leaned down and placed his lips on Eren's, and let his tongue roam. He swept it along Eren's bottom lip, making Eren quiver beneath him. Prying Eren's lips open with his own, Jean traced his tongue on Eren's, and teased Eren's lips with his teeth.

When Jean finally released Eren, it wasn't just for air; Jean moved to kiss along Eren's jawline, and then swept kisses down his neck. One hand wandered from cradling Eren's face to lightly tracing over his abdomen, enjoying the feel of Eren's muscles tensing underneath the feathery touch of his fingers.

Eren reached up to twist his fingers in Jean’s longer locks, and the painful pleasure made Jean moan. Jean created a trail of kisses down Eren's neck, some butterfly kisses and some passionate enough to leave bruises. He flicked his tongue over Eren's collarbone, then leaned back.

Eren took the opportunity to take control, and flipped Jean over so that he was dominating. Eren captivated Jean’s lips, and kept them busy with his own. Jean let him, and when Eren's fingers played at the hem of his shirt and his hipbones, Jean reveled in the pleasure, feeling it permeate every corner of his mind, his body. Eren tugged the fabric up, and broke their kiss just long enough to pull it over Jean’s head. They collided back into each other, rough and rushing. Eren's fingers danced along Jean’s chest as Jean pulled at Eren's belt loops, pulling Eren's hips closer to his own. Eren made a low growl in his throat as their jeans created a terribly wonderful friction. Jean lifted his hips to recreate the sensation, and gasped against Eren's mouth as a shiver of ecstasy rushed through him.

Jean relaxed against the sheets, let Eren control him, devour him. Jean desired to be taken advantage of, to be pushed into a state where pain mixed with pleasure and the was no room for thought. He needed Eren to take control, to take advantage of him.

So when Eren's fingers began playing at the waistband of his jeans, Jean curled into the touch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Multishippers and Erejean shippers screeching in the distance*
> 
> I, uh, posted a more -explicit- ending to this chapter as another work (a part of this series) if your really wanna read it. Right now, its just details of Jean's blowjob but I may write more later. Eventually, perhaps.
> 
> So yeah, if any of you wanna read at my attempt at that.


	8. Mornings After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I completely avoided answering the big question. I'm sorry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Being me can only mean  
> Feeling scared to breathe.  
> If you leave me then I’ll be afraid of everything  
> That makes me anxious, gives me patience, calms me down  
> Lets me face this; let me sleep, and when I wake up (I wake up, I wake up)  
> Let me be..."  
> -"Afraid" the Neighborhood.

Jean lay, his hips burning, his ass tingling and stinging, and hickeys blossoming all over his chest and neck. Eren was sleeping beside him, face peaceful and calm for the first time ever. Jean didn't bother to move his head from Eren's bare chest. He just lay there, trying to concentrate on everything but all the shit he'd fucked up.

Like Eren. Fucking Eren had been a bad idea. A really bad idea. Especially because he fucked Eren right after he told Marco he loved him.

How messed up was that?

Jean sighed, and focused on Eren's even breathing.

He’d sort things out with Marco. Maybe. He’d try to, anyway. And Marco would probably forgive him. But there’s no way Marco could love him back, Jean knew that. He knew it, because Marco didn't even know Jean.

Jean shoved that thought away. It didn't matter that Marco didn't know him or love him. He could move on, and let the old Marco feelings fade away. He could do it. He totally could. No doubt about it. Hell, if he was lucky, he’d fall for someone more easy to sway into his favor. Like Jaeger. Jean hadn't even needed to try to seduce Eren to get him to fuck, what was up with that?

It didn't matter, not really. Jean couldn't give two fucks about Jaeger's motivations or whatever. He carefully stood up, so as not to disturb Jaeger, and put his clothes on. Jean ached like a bitch, but he stiffly forced himself to move anyway. He hissed as his shirt rubbed against his still-tender nipples. Jaeger didn't wake, didn't even move. Jean silently twisted the door and pushed it open.

He hit something incredibly solid, and he nervously pulled the door back towards him. He stepped out of the dorm, shut the door as quietly as he could manage, and moved to apologize.

Unfortunately, he’d hit Armin, Jaeger's nerdy little dorm mate. But Jean liked Armin, he was cool and nice to Jean even though Jean was a major asshat. “Shit,” Jean said, “I’m sorry, Armin.”

“It’s okay,”Armin responded kindly, rubbing his head. Jean felt like an utter dick and was about to apologize again when Armin spoke.

“What were you doing in my dorm?”

Jean snapped his mouth shut, and felt his face heat up. “Nothing,” he blurted, and brushed past Armin, running away from the conversation. “Gotta go.” No way was Jean going to admit that he let Eren Jaeger fuck him up the ass.

Wait, Eren wasn't gonna tell anyone, was he?

Jean whipped out his phone, and sent a quick text to Eren. _Tell anyone what happened and I will personally enjoy ripping off your limbs and beating you with them._

Jean rubbed his face. He’d fucked up big time. He sighed, and drove back to the apartment, giving up hope of ever having something he wouldn't fuck up. Jean Kirschstein was the biggest fuck-up in history; let it be known that Jean Kirschstein has successfully fucked up and fucked over every part of his life. His family, his schoolwork, his friends, and now his best friend for the thousandth time! Let it be known Jean Kirschstein is just one big ass-sore for everyone!

  
After parking forever away from their building, Jean got out of his car, and struggled up the two flights of stairs to the unit he shared with Marco. He shuffled his way into his room, shut the door, curled up in his bed in about five too many blankets. He was determined to sleep it all away, everything, every last bit of his mistakes.

**  
  
  
**

Jean Kirschstein shut off his phone, and didn't turn it back on. When he wasn't at school or work, he was at home, sleeping. He rarely ate, and he just waited patiently for the week to end so he could not worry about everything for a whole day.

When Sunday rolled around, he was in bed, staring at the ceiling, when there was a knock on the door. Jean stood, and blearily toddled to the door, a blanket around his shoulders like Maleficent’s bitching cape in Sleeping Beauty. He opened it without checking to see who it was or if he was wearing pants.

“What?” He asked, cranky, fists rubbing his eyes.

“Uh, Jean?” A voice asked. Jean peeled his eyes open to see Eren standing on his door mat. “You aren’t wearing pants.”

“Who cares about pants,” Jean said, turned, swishing his blanket majestically, and left the door to sit on the couch. Eren awkwardly followed, and sat on an old chair across from him.

“You weren't answering your phone.” Eren said.

“No, I wasn't,” Jean agreed.

“So you didn't see what I sent you?”

“No, I didn't.”

Eren looked sheepish, like he was actually embarrassed. “I, uh, told Armin.”

Jean just sighed. “I don’t care. I don’t even care anymore.” He looked to Eren. “You know what’s weird? I don’t even care that I don’t care.”

“What? Marco dump your horse-face?” Eren said, teasingly.

Jean stared at him, and watched as Eren's face went from smug to surprised to embarrassed. “Oh.” He said, voice soft. His cheeks turned pink. “Oh, I’m sorry-”

Jean laughed humorlessly. “Don’t apologize. I had it coming. I’m a fucking idiot, I fuck up everything. I’m not sure why I thought anything with Marco would be different.”

Eren looked at him, a weird look on his face. “Did you, y’know, actually hear anything from Marco or are you just assuming you fucked up?”

Jean frowned at Eren. “It’s not assuming if I know.”

Eren backed off. “If you’re sure…”

The two sat in silence. Jean stared out a window while Eren didn't know what to do with himself. Abruptly, he stood, and approached Jean. “Well, you aren't dead, and that’s what I came here to make sure of. But, y’know horse-face, you should really check your phone. I wasn't the only one who texted you.” With that, Eren left.

Jean sighed, and stood. As much as he hated it, Eren was right. He should check his phone at the very least. So, Jean retrieved his phone and curled up on his bed to view all of his missed texts and calls.

There were 73 texts, and twenty three missed calls.

Most of them were from Marco.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, sorry for the crap chapter. I've felt like crap all week and haven't had a lot of time to do anything besides schoolwork.


	9. Dickbutt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean checking his texts, and trying to postpone the inevitable.  
> NETFLIX IS LIFE, OKAY.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so sorry. This is another sorry excuse of a chapter, AND its a week late. But I've had a hard two weeks. Two of my friends attempted suicide (they are both okay now, and recovering), and I've been struggling with my own mental health as well. This fic... it just hasn't been my first priority. And with all that's going on, I can't promise a weekly update anymore. I want to apologize for all that.
> 
> IN OTHER NEWS
> 
> I swear this is not going to turn into an EreJean fic. Be patient. I'm gonna get there, eventually!! The next chapter will provide more JeanMarco, I promise.

Jean felt a lump form in his throat, and wanted to puke. He wished he never had to turn his phone back on, ever. He checked the texts from everyone but Marco.

 

 **Armin:** Hey, Jean, are you okay? You ran out pretty fast…

 **Armin:** JEAN DID YOU REALLY

 **Armin:** JEAN WHY

 **Armin:** Whatever happened, Jean, you can talk to me about it. You don’t have to have sex with someone to find comfort.

 

Jean rolled his eyes. Of course that would be what Armin focused on.

 

 **Christa:** You havent spoken to anyone for days, are you ok?

 **Christa:** Jean??

 **Christa:** Everyones worried about you.

 **Christa:** Please call someone

 **Christa:** … Jean??

 **Christa:** Please, Jean, we're all worried.

 

Jean texted her back; his fingers stumbling over the keys. He’d made the sweet, angelic Christa worry about him, the least he could do was apologize to her.

 

 **Ymir:** Hey fucker ur worrying my gf to death

 **Ymir:** fucking answer ur texts

 **Ymir:** Dammit horse face

 

Jean’s guilt for not answering anyone went away as soon as he saw those. He typed back a quick response: fuck you.

 

 **Bert:** Jean are you okay?

 **Bert:** I guess you aren’t dead since you showed up for class

 **Bert:** You should really say something Jean

 

Jean felt a twinge of guilt for Bert, but was still incredibly pissed with Ymir. He texted Bert he was fine.

 

 **Reiner:** Whats up w/ u

 **Reiner:** If u need to see big papa reiner for some luvin u kno where ill be

 

 _Fuck you, Reiner_. Jean didn’t respond, Reiner would hear he was okay from Bert, and he wasn't in the mood to dignify that text with a response.

 **Eren:** I told Armin.

 **Eren:** Are you gonna really not answer

 **Eren:** Are you giving me the silent treatment or something

 **Eren:** U know what? DUCK YOU JEAN

 **Eren:**  *Duck

 **Eren:**  **F U C K YOU KNOW WHAT I MEANT

 **Eren:** Seriously are you okay???

 **Eren:** Its been days

 **Eren:** You didnt die, did you?

 **Eren:** Holy duck

 **Eren:** f u c k

 **Eren:** you’re dead.

 

No point in responding to Eren’s stupidity, Jean just had a conversation with him.

 

 **Mikasa:** You better get your shit together soon

 **Mikasa:** You’re freaking Armin and Eren out

 

 _Love you too_ , Mikasa, Jean thought bitterly.

The only other person whose texts he hadn’t viewed were Marco’s. Jean steeled himself. preparing for the rejection he was going to get.

 

 **Marco:** Jean, please answer

 **Marco:** Jean, I didn’t know

 **Marco:** Jean, I’m not mad

 **Marco:** Please dont do something you’ll regret.

 

Too late for that.

 

 **Marco:** Please answer

 **Marco:** I want to talk to you

 **Marco:** I need to talk to you

 **Marco:** Jean, please

 **Marco:** My mom is crying, she thinks its her fault

 **Marco:** You need to talk to her, even if you dont want to talk to me

 **Marco:** Christian and Luca want to get ice cream with you

 **Marco:** Marcella wants you to read to her

 **Marco:** Marcella asked when you’re coming back

 **Marco:**  When are you gonna come back?

 **Marco:** Jean?

 **Marco:** I need to tell you something

 **Marco:** You’d be really interested in what I have to say

 **Marco:** Look, I know how you felt about me. I know you’re probably embarrassed and everything, but you don’t have to be embarrassed. I’m okay with however you feel. I’ll try to remember you. I know the fact that I can’t remember must hurt you a lot.

 **Marco:** And even tho it’s really painful for you, I still liked you being here.

 **Marco:** If you don’t mind, I want you to come back.

 **Marco:** I meant what I said, I want to be friends with you again

 **Marco:** If you’ll have me.

 **Marco:** Are you okay?

 **Marco:** Jean??

 **Marco:** Please answer.

 **Marco:** We’re all worried.

 **Marco:** Even my nurse, Petra, asked where you were.

 **Marco:** Jean

 **Marco:** Please just let me know you’re alive

 **Marco:** I’m going crazy not knowing if you’re okay

 **Marco:** Please answer

 **Marco:** Jean

 **Marco:** Please?

 **Marco:** I was finally allowed to eat real food.

 **Marco:** Christian and Luca wanted to save some of the Oreos for you.

 **Marco:** Jean

 **Marco:** Please answer

 **Marco:** I’m sorry

 **Marco:** The Doctor, Captain America, took off the bandages on my face and there's less intense bandaging on my arm and leg stomach and back. I'll probably be okay to start rehab in a week. I'd wish you could just come and see for yourself.

 **Marco:** Jean

 **Marco:** I’m sorry.

 

Jean sat back, and ran a hand through his hair. He wasn’t sure how to deal with this. He couldn’t face Marco, not with Marco knowing Jean loved him but not knowing who Jean was. It was too painful to think about, let alone actually deal with. Jean lay in his bed, in a cocoon of blankets, trying to think of something to say back.

 

 **Jean:** Sorry I didnt respond I turned off my phone. Dont worry abt me. Im fine.

 

That was okay, right? Maybe Marco would actually stop worrying. Jean tapped send, and lay back against his pillows with an invisible weight crushing down on his chest. He rested there for a while, thinking, but his thoughts just went in circles. An idea came to him, but he almost denied it because of how stupid it was. Then he realized his alternative was to keep arguing with himself, so he gave in.

He dialed Jaeger's number. It took Eren a moment to pick up. “Hey, I thought you weren't talking to anyone.”

“Shut up,” Jean said instinctively. “I’ll call someone else then, dickbutt.”

“No!” Eren shouted insistently. “No, I’ll try not to be a ‘dickbutt’, as you so elegantly phrased it. I’ll talk to you.”

“Coffee?” Jean asked.

“Yeah,” Eren said. It was odd having a conversation where they weren't constantly insulting each other, but Jean kind of liked it. “Coffee sounds great.”

“Buy me one before you come to my place,” Jean said, and hung up before Eren could protest. He had a smug smile on his face as he forced himself upright. That was one smooth move he pulled on Jeager, he had a right to be proud. Stupidly grinning, he stumbled into the shower and cleaned himself for the first time in a week; shaved his awkward patchy facial hair and actually put on pants. Granted, they were sweatpants, but sweatpants was better than no pants.

After five minutes of fiddling around with random shit, Jean heard a knock on the door. He opened it to see a disgruntled Eren with two coffees,

“If you weren't so pitiful, I wouldn't have gotten you anything. This is a one time deal, horse-face.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Jean said and went over to the couch. He set his coffee on the coffee table and sat on the couch. Eren kicked off his shoes, then came and sat beside him on the sofa, made himself at home.

“I want you to know that the only reason I’m talking to you and not anyone else is because you already have of idea of what’s happening with Marco.”

“I do?” Eren asked.

“Yes, dickbutt, you do.”

“Is that nickname gonna stick around?”

“Yes. But you do know, dickbutt. You already guessed I got rejected and because you already know that, I’m dumping the rest of my shit bucket on you. And you’re gonna like it.”

Eren rolled his eyes, and pulled his feet up on the couch. He sat with his back propped up by the arm of the couch and his knees pulled up, almost to his chest. Jean sat criss-cross applesauce to face him. “I’m telling this story from the beginning, so buckle up, dickbutt.”

Jean poured his heart out, and Eren patiently listened. Well, not patiently, but he only interrupted to shout things like “holy fuck!” and “no…” and other emotional cries of empathy. Jean actually felt better, talking to Eren. He understood Jean, and actually listened to him and cared. Which was totally weird since they usually would be tearing each other’s throats out.

“You fucking didn't,” Eren said, worried expression on his face.

“I fucking did. So needless to say, I wanted to beat someone up, so I decided to pick a fight with you.”

“Yeah, that makes sense.” Jean didn't really think it did, looking back, but he really wasn't about to argue Eren on that.

“Anyway, I went to your dorm and punched you, and we fought. Not sure why I got the random urge to fuck, though.” Jean said, pondering.

“You probably wanted to fuck because if you fucked someone you could at least forget about Marco for a little while.” Eren's voice was quiet, but Jean brushed that fact aside. Eren had used his brain for once, but Jean didn't really appreciate what he said, even if it made sense. 

“I guess,” Jean said. “Yeah, well, sorry for fucking with you.”

Eren looked offended. “I did not suck that bad,” he denied.

“That’s not what I meant. I meant I was sorry for fucking you and then leaving you hanging for a week as I threw myself a damn pity party.”

“Oh,” Eren said, looking away. “Okay.”

“Anyway, Marco texted me a lot. Said that he wasn't mad, that he wanted to be friends, that his mom felt like it was her fault. Shit like that. And now I feel like a big, selfish douchecake for not saying anything all week. He even apologized to me. He didn't do anything!”

“That’s just the kind of person Marco is,” Eren said, his face flushing.

Silence fell, so Jean asked the question that’d been nagging at the back of his mind the entire conversation. “Do you like Marco?”

Eren choked on his coffee. “What? No! What the fuck?”

“Well,” Jean said, defensively. “You've been acting weird this entire conversation.”

Eren's face flushed red. “It’s got nothing to do with Marco, horse-face.”

“Then stop acting weird.”

“I’m not acting weird!”

“The way you said that was pretty weird.”

“Was not.”

“Was too.”

“Fuck off, Jean.”

Jean snorted. “It's my house, dickbutt.”

Eren launched himself at Jean, and they rolled onto the floor, barely missing a collision with the coffee table. They wrestled, struggling for dominance; Jean’s argumentative protests turned into girlish giggles as Eren trapped Jean underneath him and began tickling him.

“Stop!” Jean cried, tears beginning to spill out his eyes. “Stop! Eren, I’m gonna piss myself!”

Eren laughed, but stopped tickling Jean. Instead, Eren grabbed Jean’s wrists and pinned them at his sides.

“What are you gonna do?” Jean taunted. “Kiss me?”

Eren blushed. “Maybe.”

“Whatever, assbutt.” Jean brushed it off, annoyed that Eren would make fun of him like that. He'd been fucked up in the head when he kissed Eren, couldn't Jeager just let it go? “Let me up.”

"I thought I was dickbutt," Eren retorted, asinine. He stood, and helped Jean up. Jean was comfortable with Eren, they could be assholes together and it was perfectly okay because that’s just what their relationship was now. Jean kind of didn't want him to leave.

“Got any plans?” Jean asked. Eren shook his head.

“Good,” Jean said. “That means you can marathon Netflix with me.”

 


	10. Coming Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> GAYYYYYYYYY

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been awhile. I know.
> 
> I had been struggling with my mental health, and even had to go inpatient in a hospital. But, things are lightening up. I'm going to try to return to posting with some form of normality.
> 
> Thanks for your continued support, ily guys!!

“What the fuck is this shit,” Eren said.

“Shhh,” Jean said. “Just watch it. It grows on you.”

“One thing I never thought I would do, watch Shrek: The Musical with horse-face,” Eren muttered.

“Shut up,” Jean shot back, grabbing a slice of pizza.

They’d already watched three disney movies, Jean figured it was a good time to bring out the musical when Eren began singing along to Mulan's "WE ARE MAN", which had been quite amusing. Jean’s neighbor banged on the wall and yelled at them to shut up, which made them sing even louder.

“WE MUST BE SWIFT AS A COURSING RIVER, WITH ALL THE FORCE OF A GREAT TYPHOON!”

They'd shouted the entire song as they posed heroically on the coffee table.

Eren was apparently a pretty great dude, when he wasn't being an asshole.

“Just watch the damn thing." Jean said, throwing a piece of microwave popcorn at him. Eren glared, but didn't start a fight. Jean smirked smugly, and Eren stuck his tongue out at him. Jean just laughed, and sat back. He remembered when Marco had made him watch it for the first time. Jean had been really adamant, but then Marco had begun singing the opening and pulled him in, charmed him with that damn smile and those damn freckles. They'd watched the whole thing, Jean screeching when he saw Lord Faarquad in the bathtub. It had been one of the more dorky moments, where Jean learned about how Marco was a bit of a theater geek.

Jean felt a pang of sadness, and felt his stomach flop. He wasn't quite ready to face Marco, even though he knew that Marco was okay with him. He didn't know how to act or how things would be, and he would just die if things were awkward. Jean told himself he'd go see Marco tomorrow, but for now he just wanted to watch his damn musical.

Jean just snuggled back into the couch, grabbed the popcorn, and continued to poke fun at Eren.

 

 

 **  
**Jean sat in his car, and stared at the hospital.

"You can totally do this and not fuck it up."

The words echoed in the silence of the car. Jean wasn't convinced he could ever stop feeling stupid and guilty for what he'd done, but he had to face the music. He had even texted Marco on his way to make sure he didn't back out like a coward once he'd actually gotten to the hospital.

Mustering up all the courage he could find, Jean got out of the car. He felt vaguely ill as he passed the receptionist and navigated the maze of hallways. When he was finally in front of Marco's room, he sucked in a breath before throwing the door open.

Everyone in the room looked up, surprise written all over their faces.

"Surprise!" He said. He was met with silence. Marco, Amalia, Christian, and Luca all stared at him. Marcella was the only one who didn't act like the situation was awkward. Her face quickly melted into a smile and she pounced on him.

"Jean!" She cried, launching herself into his arms. "You were away FOREVER."

"Sorry about that, Marcy," he said, shifting his hold on her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his forehead. He felt the tension in the room begin to melt, and looked up to see Marco smiling shyly and Amalia beaming. Christian and Luca resumed their game of cards.

Jean set Marcy back on the ground and she ran over to her mother. Jean went over to Marco. His face no longer had bandages, except over his eye. His scars were raised, pink, and jagged lines and spots ran over his face. When he smiled, they pulled at his skin. Jean felt guilt and shame settle in him like a sickness.

He cleared his throat. "Hey." He fidgeted uncomfortably under Marco's gaze.

"Hey," Marco said softly. "Look, I'm sorry that-"

"Stop," Jean said. "You don't have anything to be sorry for.

Marco was about to protest, but Jean cut him off. "I don't want this to be terrible and awkward. You know how I feel, and now we never have to talk about it again and can just go back to being normal. Just friends. This week never happened."

 "Okay." Marco said, plainly..

They sat in silence for a moment, watching Marco's family interact with each other quietly. Marco opened his mouth to speak.

"So are you like, full-on homo? Or some sort of hybrid-homo?"

Jean couldn't help himself; he burst out laughing. He was half amused, half relieved. He never truly thought that he and marco would be able to patch things up.

"What?" Marco asked, panicky. "What's so funny?"

"Hybrid homo?" Jean said, trying to stifle his laughter. "The hell is a hybrid homo?"

"The, uh," Marco said, feebly trying to defend himself. "The people who are like, in the middle. You know. The bisexuals, homoflexibles, and heteroflexibles, the pansexuals, the polysexuals, and asexual romantics-"

"I get it!" Jean interrupted.

"...and demisexuals and greysexuals-"

"I get it! You can stop!"

Marco smiled smugly. "That's what I thought." Jean glared at Marco, but he didn't really mean it. "So which one are you?" Marco asked.

"Pansexual." Jean mumbled, watching Amalia read a book to Marcella.

Marco nodded. "Well, it's only fair if I come out too."

Jean stiffened. Marco wasn't straight? Did he hear that right? Marco is coming out?

Marco looked away, towards his mom who was obviously eavesdropping. "Hey mom," he said loudly. Amalia looked up with a smile. Marco smiled back, and then flicked a glance at Jean before facing her.

"I'm gay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... I don't know what I'm doing, I don't know where I'm going with this. I just thought we needed a happy chapter, the characters and myself!
> 
> I hope things end well for everyone, Jean, Marco, Eren, you, and me!!


	11. Amigos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emotional roller-coaster in very few words.

"Seriously?" Jean said. A glimmer of hope flared inside him. Marco, gay? Jean felt like whooping and doing some really embarrassing things out of celebration.

"Oh, Mar-mar," Amalia said, her voice soothing. "I knew."

"What does gay mean?" Marcella asked.

"It means Mar-mar likes guys, not girls," Amalia answered gently.

"Oh,” Marcella’s attention was lost by such mundane news. “Okay.”

"It's okay," Christian said. "I don't care. As long as you don't marry Jean, he's gross."

Luca nodded vigorously, in complete agreement. Jean didn’t register this comment, as he was still trying to compute what Marco had said.

Amalia frowned at them. "Don't be rude."

"We were just kidding, Ma," Luca sighed.

"Wait, " Jean said. "You're gay? Like, full-on homo gay?"

"Yes," Marco said, laughing a little. "Full-on homo gay."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Marco shrugged. "I didn't want to weird you out."

"I can guarantee you that being 'weirded out' would not be my reaction.” Jean breathed out, with a relieved chuckle. He felt a surge of emotion so strong it was unidentifiable welling up inside him, so strong he felt like he was about to burst. He was gulping breaths and his hands were shaking. He tried to calm himself, and keep himself from blushing, but he knew his feelings would show on his face. Marco continued to grin up at him with a shit-eating grin that, even with the scarred skin pulled taut, was beautiful enough to take Jean’s breath away.

“You aren’t pranking me or something, right?” Jean asked, finding it hard to believe that Marco was serious. “I’m not dreaming am I?”

“You’re not dreaming, and I’m not kidding,” Marco said. “I’m a full-on, flaming homosexual.”

“Holy… wow,” Jean breathed. He looked to the floor, and a thought occurred to him. His heart sank, and a lump formed in his throat. He looked around the room, and saw Amalia was now occupied with the kids, who were arguing about something.

“Marco, do you… y’know.” Jean stammered furtively. He locked eyes with Marco, and felt the emotion in his throat be too much for him to speak.

Jean knew he didn’t need to finish as he saw the bright light in Marco’s eyes fade slightly. Marco took a breath and looked away from Jean. Marco shook his head.

“I’m sorry.” Marco whispered, heart in his words. Jean clenched his jaw as his stomach roiled, his fists clenched, and tears threaten to spill. Jean licked his lips.

“It’s fine,” he heard himself say. What a freaking roller coaster, this was so not okay. Jean switched from manual to autopilot, and he spoke as if he were simply going through the motions. He managed a hollow smile. “You can’t help who you fall in love with and who you don’t.”

“Jean, I mean, I’m not in love with you now-”

Jean expelled a sharp breath.

“But that doesn’t mean I can’t fall in love with you. I never saw you as an option, I thought I couldn’t fall in love with you, I didn’t even let myself think about it,”

“Marco, I know you’re just trying to make me feel better. You don’t have to apologize for not loving me.” Jean looked away, focused his gaze on the picture hanging above Marco’s hospital bed. One of those cliche, cheap prints they put a fancy frame around and call art.

Marco didn’t respond. Jean shoved his emotions in a box in the back of his brain, and composed himself.

“Whatever happens, we’ll  always be amigos, right?” Jean smiled emptily at Marco, who grinned weakly back.

“Amigos.”

“Awesome,” Jean said. “So, Amalia, you and the kids aren’t gonna be here tomorrow, right?”

“Tomorrow is monday; kid’s got school and I have work,” she replied, attention on Luca and Christian who looked close to slapping each other instead of playing slap-jack.

Jean looked to Marco. “I’m gonna bring over my laptop and some snacks. We can marathon Netflix? Just like old times except we’re at the hospital instead of at home,” Jean babbled. He didn’t know what he was saying anymore. God I am so dumb.

“Let’s do it!” Marco said, ignoring Jean’s lack of elegance. He was so nice. His smile was so sweet. God, Jean just could not stop feeling for the freckled Jesus.

“What should we watch? Horror movies? Or Disney? Or should we watch a tv show?” Jean asked, talking to prevent an awkward silence.

Marco grinned a little grin, one that made one corner of his mouth go up a little more than the other. “We’ve talked about watching Supernatural, why don’t we start that?”

Jean looked away, feeling awkward. “Aha, about that…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh I am having such a hard time to find ways and time to keep writing this... sometimes I wanna quit, and give up. BUT I WONT. I WILL FINISH THIS. THIS WILL BE MY FIRST EVER MULTI CHAPTER FIC I START AND FINISH. I AM DETERMINED.
> 
> I hope it ends well, I don't have a lot of confidence in this chapter tbh. Oh well. Things will probably get better here on out. Hopefully...


	12. Awkward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just, so, so awkward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for how long it's been. A lot of things have happened in my personal life and writing was put on the back burner. But I've tried to get back into the swing of things by writing a short chapter... hopefully I'll get the next one up in a week.

Jean had spent the entire evening home alone, which only made him more anxious to get up and spend the entirety of Monday with Marco. He woke early, ate little, spent extra time showering and shaving, and was out the door at eight in the morning. It was cool and sunny, and the chilled wind filled Jean's lungs, with it inhaling a sense of pure freshness. It was truly indescribable, that feeling, but it was one of Jean's favorites. On the drive to the hospital, Jean rolled down his windows, allowing the crisp and cool wind blow in his face, and slowly calmed the closer he came to Marco.

Jean stopped at a Taco Bell and grabbed Marco his favorite breakfast- the steak AM Crunchwrap- and hurried to Marco's room to try to get it into his face before it cooled. Jean knocked once before entering, laptop stuff in one hand and Marco's breakfast balanced in the other. A smile snuck its way onto Jean's face as he saw Marco, ruffled hair and sleepy-eyed. Adorable as always. Jean put the bag of food on the bed table and pulled the comfy chair up to Marco's bedside.

"You're here early," Marco said, rubbing his eyes.

"It's not like I have anywhere else to be," Jean said, setting up his laptop. His phone buzzed in his pocket. He stopped to glance at it, then froze. It was Eren, he forgot about that whole thing. What was he going to tell Marco? Hey, I slept with my enemy because I thought you were rejecting me even though you didn’t? Sorry? There was no way to make it not awkward.

"What is it?" Marco asked, concern in his eyes. Guilt burrowed deeper into Jean's stomach, and he opened his mouth to explain when Marco cut him off.

"Don't you dare say you're fine. You might as well tell me, because I'm going to find out eventually."

Jean looked up, surprised at the stern tone of his voice. He ran his hands through his hair and expelled a heavy breath. What was the best way to approach this…? He sat silently for a long moment, opening and closing his mouth as he debated on how to go about it. He knew he must have looked stupid, with his mouth gaping open and then closing like a dumb fish. But he just couldn’t find any words. He looked up, locked eyes with Marco, and just let words tumble off his tongue on their own will.

“I fucked up.”

Marco chuckled softly, but his eyes were filled with sympathy. “Oh, geez, lay it on me.”

Jean smiled lightly, he felt a bit better… but his stomach felt like it was being wrestled by satan. He tried to clear the awkward out of his throat, but failed. “Y’know how I just sort of, uh, did that thing last week and ran out…”

Marco nodded, eyes intently staring into Jean’s that he felt like if his pupils weren’t already empty voids of blackness they would be with how Marco was staring at him. “Well, um, things happened, and Eren and I may have-”

“You didn’t start a fight, did you?” Marco asked, worryingly.

Jean felt a blush creep onto his cheeks. “Uh, not really…” Marco’s confusion was obvious. Jean covered his face with both hands. “We sort of… fucked?”

His statement was met with silence. Jean peered worryingly through his fingers, anxiety filling up his chest. Marco sat, quiet, with a confused face. His eyes were clouded with mixed emotions.

“And later, he sort of cheered me up and brought me coffee and I guess we’re okay now?”

Marco was still silent. Jean began fidgeting, and he let out a nervous, breathy laugh. “It’s super weird, right? And now I don’t know what to do and he just keeps texting me about random stuff all friendly and I’m just really confused…”

Marco looked up, with a weird expression on his face. “Ha, that is really weird. To think of you and Eren as friends… and that slept together once?”

“Yeah, I’m still trying to wrap my head around it.” Jean said, offering Marco a half smile.

Marco’s face broke out into a grin, his visible eye crinkling at the corner. “Ahh! It’s just so weird to think about you and Eren… y’know…” A blush reddened his freckled cheeks, and Jean had to laugh. Marco, in his twenties, yet still weirded out by sex… Jean couldn’t control himself, which made Marco’s cheeks flush darker and darker. It was just so incredibly adorable.

When Jean finally calmed down, swiping the tears that had formed in his eyes and massaging his aching abdomen, he picked up his laptop and began logging in to his computer.

“So, how did it all happen?” Marco asked, amusement in his tone as he began to eat his greasy breakfast.

“I went to punch Jaeger in the face because why not and that sort of turned into me and him in his dorm and then on his bed and I don’t know. But then I went home and died for a few days. Then Eren just shows up at my place. Like, how did he even know where I lived? Probably got it from Armin… anyway, he showed up with coffee and he decided to stay and make sure I didn’t just crawl back into bed and die. And he can actually be nice? I guess?”

Marco listened quietly but intently to Jean’s babbling as he opened his browser, logged into the hospital wifi, and opened up Netflix. He kept mindlessly babbling, unaware of what he was talking about, as that part of his brain was navigating the computer.

“Okay, here we go… season one, episode one.” Jean lifted the laptop up onto the little bed tray thing that was meant to hold food. He sat for a moment, contemplating, before nudging Marco.

“Hey, you gonna let me up there or what?”

Marco sighed softly, and scooted over, making room on the bed for Jean. Jean climbed into his little space, and relished the warmth of Marco’s side against his. He ever so suavely did the arm-around-your-date’s-shoulder thing; Meaning Jean awkwardly put his arm around Marco’s shoulders and Marco looked at him and rolled his eyes before snuggling more comfortably into the crook of Jean’s arm. Jean told himself to be cool, there was no meaning behind it, they were just bros watching a movie in a small space trying to get comfy. It’d be totally normal to almost cuddle in this situation.

Yet still, Jean found it hard to focus on the screen.

* * *

Marco had been surprised. Very surprised. Not only were Jean and Eren doing those things, but they were now buddies? The thought made his mouth taste sour. It was probably just friendship jealousy… Marco had never had to share Jean with anyone before. Jean didn’t have many other friends. It was a good thing Jean was learning how to be friends with other people. But a sad and acidic taste refused to quit burning in his mouth. What was his issue? He was never this bitter over the weird decisions Jean made, or anything else. He shook it off and forced himself to be normal. It shouldn’t bother him what Jean did with Eren, so Marco was determined to make it so. 


	13. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluff chapter. I typed it in two hours, and did not revise. Just as a fair warning.

The next three weeks passed routinely. He hung out with Eren, and sometimes his crew, after class; when Jean didn’t have class, he’d be at Marco’s bedside. He even bought Marco a cool eyepatch to cover his eye when he got home from the hospital. A sense of normalcy had constructed itself, and Jean could say he’d felt more comfortable than he had in a long time. But now his anxiety was coming back. Marco had been stuck in the hospital, gaining his muscle back. He could finally walk again, his eye and everything was almost as healed as it was going to get. The doctor said he would be coming home soon… in a few days. Jean had been cleaning the apartment like mad, refusing to let Eren over because he knew that the titan-sized tornado boy would just wreck it all up. God, Eren’s own place was only ever cleaned (and that is a relative term) by Armin and Mikasa. Jean was actually picking up the empty coffee cup Eren had left on the counter and throwing it away when he heard his phone ringing. His pulse jumped when he saw who it was.

“Hey, Marco, what’s up?” Jean said, meandering his way to his room.

“Jean! Guess what?” Marco’s voice was light and excited, Jean could tell that he was smiling.

“Your Mom took all of the flowers out of your room because they were irritating your allergies?”

“What? No. I get to come home today!”

A smile broke out on Jean’s face. “No way! Seriously? That’s amazing!”

Marco chuckled a bit. “Yeah, I’m about to be discharged! I’ll be at the apartment soon.”

“Shit, Marco,” Jean said. “I didn’t expect this. I don’t have time to wrap your present!” Jean bit his lip to try to keep himself from smirking, he loved taunting Marco like this.

“You got me a present? Jean, you didn’t have to-”

Jean interrupted, shutting down Marco’s selfless gesture. “Save it. I can’t return it, so you better like it.”

“Jean-”

“I’ll see you when you get home!” Jean hung up quickly, and rushed to unpack Marco’s eyepatch and tidy the place. He kept fidgeting and re-adjusting things a thousand times, waiting to hear the key to turn in the lock, and hear Marco come in. He jumped like the toast just popped out of the toaster when he actually heard it around 5:30. He tried to act normal and natural when Marco opened the door. Marco was smiling, and carrying a duffel bag of his stuff from the hospital.

“Hey,” he said.

Jean rolled his eyes. “You’ve been in a hospital for months, and the first thing you say when you get home is ‘hey’?”

“Uh, yeah. I guess… Did you clean?” Marco began walking towards the bedrooms, threw his stuff into his room, and then headed straight for the kitchen.

Jean crossed his arms. “Maybe.”

Marco looked up from the pot he was filling with water. “Was that my present?”

Jean wandered over to the barstools on the opposite side of the counter from Marco. “Nope.”

“Do you plan on giving me my present before I die of curiosity?”

Jean pretended to think about it. “Mmm… No. I don’t think so.”

Marco shook his head, pouring half a box of noodles into the pot, which was now on the stove.

The two sat in a comfortable silence while Marco cooked. It was just spaghetti, made with Prego and a lot of mozzarella cheese, but Jean missed the company. He’d spent so much time home alone he’d forgotten the comfort being around Marco brought him. He lazily admired Marco from the bar stool. He let his eyes retain every detail of Marco, his pushed up sleeve of his favorite hoodie, the firework explosion of freckles on his wrist, the small tear in the back pocket of his jeans, the stray hair that refused to be brushed from his face…

“Dinner’s ready!” Marco said, grinning. “I made your plate. Extra cheesy, just like you.”

Jean sat up, pulled out of his daze. “Ha-ha, very funny.” He still took the plate from Marco and walked into the living room. Marco followed with his own plate, and sat down next to Jean. They turned on the xbox, and headed straight for Netflix. They sat together, eating spaghetti, watching Supernatural. They’d managed to get to the middle of season two. They’d occasionally make a comment, but otherwise just ate their pasta.

When Jean finished, he set down his plate on the coffee table, and sighed. “Man, I missed this.”

“Yeah,” Marco agreed. “It feels so nice to be home.”

“Your present!” Jean blurted. “I forgot to give you your present.”

Without waiting for a response, Jean sprung to his feet, dumped their plates in the dishwasher, then ran to his room. He reappeared from the hallway with his hands behind his back.

“Close your eyes... er, eye, and hold out your hands,” Jean demanded.

Marco obeyed, and opened his palms up to Jean. Jean fought the urge to just lean down and kiss Marco, and gently set the fabric into Marco’s palm.

Marco opened his eye, and started laughing. A smile spread onto Jean’s face, his chest warming with affection. Soon, he started laughing too,

“Oh my God,” Marco panted. “I’m gonna look like a pirate.”

“Correction,” Jean wheezed. “You’re going to look like a badass. I was thinking we could revamp your whole look and-”

“Oh my god, Jean.” Marco laughed.

“You’re welcome,” Jean said, smirking.

“Thank you,” Marco said, looking up at Jean, eyes soft and sincere. He took off the white cloth eyepatch he was wearing, revealing the scarred, bruised skin underneath. Jean felt a pang of guilt in his chest, and when Marco finally looked back up, with the new black leather eyepatch on, His expression turned serious.

“Jean, I don’t blame you. This wasn’t your fault.”

Jean’s gaze fixed itself on his hands. “It sure as hell feels like it.”

He could feel Marco staring at him, and waited with bated breath in the moment of silence that followed his remark. Suddenly, he felt a pain in his chest.

“Ow! A boob punch? Really?”

“That’s what you get for being a stupid boob.” Marco’s face was cemented still in a serious expression.

Jean stared at Marco, slack-jawed, until a bubble of laughter managed to escape his chest. Soon, he was on the floor, dying of laughter, while Marco tried to indignantly defend his scolding talents. When the blush finally left Marco’s face, and the last laugh left Jean with an aching abdomen, Jean scooted back onto the couch and propped his feet up on the table. “Hey, Marco, you wanna keep watching?”

Marco grinned, nodding, and so Jean clicked play.

Marco was passed out by nine, his head resting on Jean’s shoulder and Jean grinning like the idiot he is.


	14. ... It's Where the Heart Is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Resuming daily life is hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drama, drama, drama... we are reaching the climax!

Jean woke up, and rubbed his eyes. Hearing a clatter, he sat up straight, nerves stiff, until he remembered Marco was home. Jean relaxed, and stood up, wandering to the kitchenette, where Marco was frying eggs.

“Good morning,” Marco said, cheery as ever. Jean grumbled an incomprehensible response, but Marco’s parade was not to be rained out. “I made two for you, the way you like ‘em.”

Marco set a plate down in front of Jean, whose mouth immediately started watering. He eagerly ate his eggs, and when he’d finished, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. Marco stood on the other side of the counter, eating his own breakfast.

A lazy. mundane, normal day, like how things used to be. A feeling of peace washed over Jean, and he quickly finished his text to Eren before getting up to put his dishes in the sink.

“Marco, I’m gonna get coffee with Eren before my 10 a.m. class. Wanna come?”

“Nahh,” Marco said, a weird tone in his voice. “You guys go without me, I am gonna go grocery shopping.”

Jean frowned. “Why? We have food.”

“Ramen noodles, macaroni and cheese, and box brownies do not constitute proper nutrition. When was the last time you ate a vegetable?.”

Jean rolled his eyes. “Whatever. I’m gonna hop in the shower, then go.”

Marco nodded, and Jean hurriedly got ready, and got his school stuff together. He waved goodbye to Marco, who was sitting on the couch, on his phone, looking a little out of sorts. Jean shrugged it off, he was probably just trying to get used to being home.

**  
**  


It was almost like nothing ever happened. Jean and Marco fell back into their old routines, hanging out like they used to. Taking turns doing the dishes, and Marco cooking dinner most nights so Jean was no longer living off of fast food and tv dinners. Two things kept it from being like things used to: Marco looking like a five year old dressing up as a pirate, and Jean actually hanging out with Eren. These weren’t major things, but they were things that made being together with Marco awkward. Jean felt awkward and guilty whenever he noticed the eyepatch, or Marco going easy on the right side of his body, or Marco’s fatigue. And for some reason, Marco got awkward whenever Jean brought up Eren. Jean had been worrying about it for an hour, but he finally poked his head into Marco’s room.

“Marco?”

Brown eyes looked up from a laptop, and focused on Jean. “Yeah? What’s up?”

“I’m gonna hang out at Eren’s. I might be out late.”

Marco’s face screwed up a little, and he hesitated before speaking. “You and Eren aren’t, like, together or something, right?”

Jean’s face felt like it was slowly setting itself on fire. “What? No. No, that’s imposs- why did you think that?”

Marco was flushing a little, and not meeting Jean’s gaze. “Well, you had that thing once, y’know, and then you guys are hanging out a lot and I was just wondering…”

“Oh god, no. Geez, Marco, you know I like you. There’s no way I could- with Eren- no. God, no.” Jean wanted to melt into the ground, slip through the floor, and cease to exist. Was that what Marco was thinking., this whole time?

“Sorry. It feels like you forgot about me and you hang out with Eren all the time now,” Marco said, quietly, but full of emotion.

Jean was shocked, but then frustration and confusion filled him. “I forgot about you? We see each other literally every day. I finally get a friend besides you, and suddenly I’m ditching you? You’d go out with Ymir and Christa and Reiner and all of them all the time! What, I’m not allowed to have friends besides you?” Jean said, angrily. “I might be in love with you, but I’m not your possession. I can have other friends. You don’t even like me that much, so why do you care who I’m friends with?”

“Jean, that’s not-”

“Leave me alone for a bit, Marco. I can have friends and not want to suck their dicks.” Jean, read to cry and punch a hole in the wall, stormed out. He let the door slam shut behind him, and didn’t bother to lock the door. He shot a text to Eren, and broke several traffic laws on the way to his dorm.

Eren opened the door quickly, after Jean nearly punched a hole through it. “Woah, what’s your issue?”

Jean, filled with confusion, shouted, “I don’t know!” He stormed inside, and lay on Eren’s bed, spread eagle. He expelled a heavy breath, and ran his hands through his hair. “I don’t know,” he said, softly this time. “Just, fuck, Marco’s been home for a week and we’re fighting? I just feel really shitty and he is acting weird and I just really fucking wish that he could decide whether he wants to be with me or not because I can’t deal with this awkward, heavy, in-between bullshit. I can’t do it. I just, fuck, I just want him so bad that-”

“Jean!” Eren shouted. Jean blinked, surprised, and looked up at Eren, who was walking over to him. Eren leaned in close, breathing uneven. “Shut up about Marco for a minute, please. Just, stop.”

Jean tried to find Eren’s intentions in his green eyes, but there was no clarity in them. “What?”

Eren bit his lip and sat, thinking for a moment. Then he crawled on the bed and leaned over Jean. Jean couldn’t find words, couldn’t understand what was happening- when did he get in between Eren’s knees? When did Eren lean over him, faces inches apart?  What was going on?

“Jean.”

Eren’s harsh voice shook Jean out of his daze. Eren’s green eyes were on him, his cheeks were flushed, and his unkempt hair falling towards Jean, surrounding his head like a black halo. “All you ever talk about is Marco. Marco, Marco, Marco. You worship him like he’s God, but he doesn’t even see you. Not like I do. It’s such bullshit.”

“Wha-”

“Shut up,” Eren said. closing his eyes and breathing heavily. “Just shut up, okay?”

Eren locked eyes with Jean, and Jean felt like he was drowning even though there was no water. A second of silence fell, and when it shattered, it blew shrapnel everywhere.

“I fucking love you, you idiot. But you don’t give a damn about anything but him. So fuck you. Fuck you. Go away. I can’t handle another minute of you trying to tell me why it’s so hard being in love with someone you can’t have.”

Eren swiftly rolled off the bed, and went into the bathroom, slamming the door. Jean lay back, shocked, but didn’t move. He lay there, just thinking. Trying to process it all.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he finally stood up and walked to the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think!
> 
> To those of you who have been on this long journey with me, thank you so much for all your support. I never thought I'd actually start and FINISH a multi-chapter fanfic, but here we are! Fifteen chapters in and almost done. Only a few chapters left, I'm afraid. I think. Or so I plan. But these things have a way of doing what they want without my consent. 
> 
> I really appreciate the love you guys have shown, and truly appreciate. I won't be finished writing, so as soon as this is done, You'll probably see my next Jean/Marco fic up soon! Don't get too down about it!


	15. Deja Voo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Very NSFW. Be prepared.

“Eren!” Jean knocked on the bathroom door. “Eren!”

Jean heard muffled sounds of movement through the door.“What the fuck, Jean! I told you to go. Are you deaf as well as stupid?”

Jean calmly sighed. He felt a quiet, empty calm. Everything seemed clear. Why was he chasing after Marco when it was pointless? Marco was never going to love him. It would just be more torture. “Eren, open the goddamn door.”

There was a moment of silence, and Eren forcefully tugged the door open. “What?”

“You’re right.”

Confusion clouded Eren’s face. “What?”

Jean was numb to it all, but the clarity of things was piercing. The two opposites raged in him, but it was completely silent. “I said you are right. Marco is never going to love me. What’s the point of chasing after someone who will never love me back?”

Eren’s mouth fell open slightly, but Jean kept going.

“I want to be with someone who actually wants to be with me.” Jean, mind blank, reached out to Eren, cupping his cheek, drawing him closer. Jean leaned over, his lips just touching Eren’s ear.

“I want you to help me forget about him.”

Jean heard Eren inhale before he was seized, suddenly, a hand pulling his hair and another around his neck. They collided against the wall, a mess of emotions and passions. Lips locked together, teeth knocking together, but none of it really mattered to Jean. He felt a rush of relief when Eren’s nails dug into the skin of his back and his fingers tugged at his hair. The pain felt great against the numbness, and Jean didn’t even try to hold back the whine that escaped his throat. Eren’s teeth grazed his neck before biting down, and Jean tightened his grip on Eren’s hips. He wasn’t sure when they landed there, but he didn’t stop them when they unbuttoned Eren’s jeans, or when they tugged off his pants. And he didn’t stop them when they curled around Eren’s dick and began tugging. His mind was empty, but he was determined to reach the point where he couldn’t differentiate all the pain he felt and pleasure.

Suddenly, Eren pushed him off. Jean was stunned, and confused. Wasn’t he giving Eren what he wanted?

“Did I do something wrong?” Jean asked, voice low.

Eren looked up, eyes vibrant and cheeks flushed with heat, a smirk on his face. Eren looked like the perfect picture of sexuality. “I think you’re forgetting who’s the dominant one here.”

Eren launched himself at Jean, and dragged him towards the mattress. Throwing Jean down, Eren crawled on top of him, peeling his shirt off. Jean had already lost his, somewhere along the way, so Eren had no trouble teasing Jean’s nipples. He flicked his tongue across the perk, before gently twisting it in between his teeth. Jean keened; his pants were becoming too restricting.

Eren seemed to know exactly what he was doing, as his hand immediately began teasing him, running his fingertips up and down the length through the rough fabric. Jean’s hips bucked, but Eren was relentless. His mouth left a trail of hickeys down’s Jean’s chest and abdomen, fingers tickling and teasing around his waistband. Eren bit down especially hard on Jean’s hip bone, eliciting a moan that made Jean desperately search for a grip in the sheets. Finally, Eren began to unbutton his pants and tugged them off, along with his boxers. Eren began gently stroking Jean’s cock, rubbing his thumb along the tip, wiping off the pre-cum. His other hand reached behind him, and suddenly, a bottle of lube appeared. Eren squeezed a bit into his palm and rubbed it on his fingers.

Bending down, Eren licked Jean’s throbbing length before nudging two fingers at his opening. Jean lifted his hips, allowing Eren to stretch him out, and felt a moan escape his lips when he felt Eren’s fingers plunge inside. Jean’s hands fisted into the sheets as Eren had one hand pumping up and down his length, and the other fingering his ass.

“Eren,” Jean  panted. “I want you…”

“You want me to what?” Eren asked, voice low and filled with desire.

“I want you inside me!” Jean cried, lifting his hips. “Please!”

That was all that Eren needed, because Jean immediately felt the absence of his hands right before he heard the sound of a condom being unwrapped. He squirmed, feeling abandoned until Eren leaned forward, and pinned Jean’s wrists down with one hand. With the other, he guided his cock into Jean’s hole, sucking in a breath as it sensed him and tightened. Jean bit his lip to prevent crying out. Eren slowly plunged his entire length into Jean, and began rocking slowly. Suddenly, Jean cried out, ecstasy rolling through him in a wave. Eren began thrusting, harder and harder, until Jean was doing all he could not to scream.

“Eren, I’m gonna-” he was cut off by Eren’s hips suddenly jerking out of rhythm until he let out a guttural moan, and thrust one last time into Jean. Jean bit his lip down trying to muffle his scream as he came, shooting up onto his chest. Eren slowly pulled out, and took off the condom, throwing it into the bin before getting up. He went into the bathroom, and emerged with a towel. He gently scrubbed the cum off of Jean's chest and abdomen. He bent down and gave Jean a kiss before he tossed the towel onto a pile of clothes on the floor, and joined Jean on the bed.

A distant euphoria traveled through Jean’s veins, and he lay back, enjoying it while it lasted. The two lay in silence for a long moment.

The hot, heavy silence was broken by Jean’s phone buzzing on the floor.

He picked it up, not thinking, and unlocked it to read the text.

“I need to talk to you, in person.” It was from Marco.

Jean lay back, sighed, and dropped his phone on the floor.

**“Fuck.”**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. I did this when there's only gonna be three or so more chapters. I'm terrible. I'll make it up to you guys. I swear.


	16. Choices

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have the ending written, but I don't want to post it until the first chapter of my next fic is up. I don't want to leave you guys hanging with nothing to heal your broken hearts. Also, I didn't edit; lots of things have been going on and I just wanted to get this up for you guys.

“What is it?” Eren asked, murmuring into Jean’s chest.

Jean paused a moment before answering. “Nothing, don’t worry about it.”

A comfortable silence fell as they lay, Eren cuddled into Jean’s chest. Jean lazily traced his fingers up and down Eren’s back, trying to fight the part of him that wanted to jump up and run to Marco. But he refused to, all it would bring is pain. He wouldn’t do that to himself to him anymore. He deserved better. He deserved someone who loved him back. Not someone who kept him around to build up their ego.

After some thought, Jean picked up his phone and sent a text back to Marco.

“I’m going to stay elsewhere for a few days to think. I need to be alone.”

He tossed his phone on the ground and kissed Eren’s head. He cared for Eren a lot, surely over time he would forget Marco and grow to love Eren. He needed to, Marco was too painful, too dangerous. Eren was safe, Eren was loving. Eren was just a friend, but Jean was determined to change that.

“Hey,” he whispered. “Eren.”

“Hmm,” Eren mumbled, sleepily.

“We should shower first. What if we’re still naked and asleep when Armin gets back?”

Eren groaned, rolling over, and Jean smiled feebly. “Fine, I’ll shower by myself.”

“I’m up, I’m up!” Eren insisted, sitting up. He ruffled his sex hair, which was really hot, and stumbled to his feet.

Jean stood up, grabbed Eren’s hand, and towed him to the bathroom. Eren turned on the shower and got towels while Jean stared at himself in the mirror, he barely recognized himself. A trail of red, blue, purple blotches trailed their way down his chest and his back and arms were covered in bright red scratches. He barely felt it, their sting was actually comforting, but the lanky figure in the mirror didn’t feel right.

“Like what you see?” Eren asked, striking a ridiculous pose.

Jean's eyes flicked over to Eren's toned figure in the mirror. “Maybe,” he replied, simply. “Can I stay for a few days? Borrow some of your clothes and stuff?”

“Yeah,” Eren said, looking down. “Are you sure you’re okay? With Marco and-”

Jean grabbed Eren’s wrist with both hands. “I am okay. I want you.”

Jean leaned forward and placed a butterfly kiss on Eren’s cheek.

“Come on,” Jean said, nodding towards the shower. “I’ll wash your hair.”

**  
  
**

Two days passed. Jean didn’t check his phone and spent the entire time next to Eren, sleeping with Eren, eating out with Eren, going to class with Eren. He went to work alone, but the work kept him busy, kept his mind off of things. He was fine, he was content. Except he constantly felt guilty, grief-stricken, and sick. But he could ignore it, get through it. Sometimes, when he was with Eren, he’d forget about it entirely.

Armin and Mikasa hung out with them occasionally, but Armin was kind enough to give them space. Eren was smiling, the happiest Jean had ever seen him. But there were times when he knew something was off.

“Hey, Jean, where’s your phone?”

“I don’t know,” Jean shrugged. It didn’t really matter."

“Shouldn’t you have it on you, in case your parents call or something?”

Jean sighed, setting down his xbox controller to dig around in the pile of dirty clothes to find his phone.

He found it by an empty bag of doritos and some batman underwear. He opened it, seeing that he had lots of texts that he didn’t really want to read, since most of them were from Marco.

He read the unimportant ones from various people he didn’t speak to that often. Then he read Marco’s. They were full of choppy phrases, which was really unlike Marco.

“Jean? Are you okay? Are you safe? Please respond. I really need to see you. I really have to talk to you. Jean? Jean? Okay, well, since you don’t want to reply, I’ll just text it to you. I’m sorry I made you feel that way. I was jealous of Eren. I can tell how he feels about you. And I didn’t know why it bothered me, and I didn’t realize it until you left. But I love you, Jean. I’m sorry, but I love you. Please say something.”

Jean’s eyes began flooding, and he threw his phone on the floor. The screen shattered, and Jean let himself fall into the glass. He didn’t care about the pain. He vaguely heard Eren calling his name, tugging at his shoulders, but it felt impossible to move. What was he supposed to do? He’s given Marco up, he moved on. He was with Eren now. But he wanted to run into Marco’s arms and beg forgiveness. But he couldn’t Eren like that, he cared too much. He loved Eren, just, not in the same way he loved Marco.

“Jean!”

He snapped back to reality, and looked up to Eren. “I’m sorry, I’m okay.”

“No you fucking aren’t. I can tell. Something has been dragging you down ever since you first came here, and I know what it is.”

“Eren, I-”

“No!” Eren stood up, turning his back to Jean. “Stop! I know what you feel, I was stupid to think you could give him up that easy. I wouldn’t be so in love with you if you could. Because I fell in love with the Jean that’s in love with him.”

Jean opened, his mouth to speak, to apologize, to say anything, but the words wouldn’t come.

“Just, grab your stuff and go. Don’t worry about me, I knew it was coming and there’s nothing you can do for me. Just go. Have your damn happy ending. I’m gonna go get a tub of icecream.”

Eren slid on his shoes, grabbed his keys and wallet, and left. Jean stood, stunned, before picking up the remnants of his phone, grabbed the rest of his stuff, and ran to his car.

He was sped home, not caring if a cop saw, and ran inside.

“Marco!” He shouted, dropping his stuff. “Marco!” His eyes scanned the living room, then he rushed to Marco’s room and pushed the door open. “Marco?”

Marco was sitting upright in bed, eyes wide, shaking and sweating.

“Marco!” Jean shouted, “Hey, Marco! Hey, look at me, look at me, Marco!” Jean’s hands were on Marco’s shoulders, gently squeezing. Jean leaned up and hugged Marco, whispering in his ear, “It’s okay, it’s all okay. We’re safe.”

Jean felt Marco relax and gasp for breath, and Jean leaned back to give him air. “Hey, Marco, are you okay?”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, I just-”

Jean grabbed Marco’s hands and held tightly, staring into his soft brown eyes. "It's okay, you didn’t do anything wrong. Are you okay?”

Marco fell into Jean, burrowing his head in Jean’s shoulder. “I’m okay, now, I just, I saw the crash all over again. I could feel it happening. I was so scared I’d lose you.”

Jean wrapped his arms around Marco, tightly. “We’re safe, I’m right here. We’re okay.”

Marco clung to Jean, more fragile than Jean had ever seen him. Jean sat there, rubbing his back and murmuring soft reassurances in his ear.

 


	17. There Are No Ends, Only Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> last chapter, then an epilogue. Thank you all for supporting me on this wild ride!

Jean handed Marco a mug, and sat down next to him. “Dr. Smith- the one you called Captain America- told me that this might happen. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. He told me to call the hospital and make an appointment with a Dr. Ackerman, a psychiatrist. I guess I’ll do that later. I just, I’m so glad you’re here right now.”

Jean felt apprehension build up in his chest. “I saw your texts and hurried over here…”

Marco looked up, his cheeks flushed. Jean set his mug down, shook off his anxiety, and continued. “I’m sorry. I just, I was so frustrated and hurt that I just, I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“Jean, it’s okay, it was nobody’s fault. We both messed up. But we’re okay now, right?” Marco asked, staring down at the tea in his hands. “I can understand if you don’t want to be with me anymore because I-”

Marco was cut off when Jean pressed his lips against Marco’s mouth. Marco accepted the pressure and returned the kiss, slow and sweet.

“I want to be with you, and only you. Always have, always will.”

Marco set his tea in the coffee table, and wrapped his arms around Jean. “I’m sorry… I love you, Jean,” He said, voice thick with emotion. Jean watched as a tear dropped onto Marco’s cheek. He brushed it away with his thumb, and leaned in close.

“I love you, Marco.” Jean kissed him softly, and cradled Marco in his arms as he trailed kisses on Marco’s cheeks, on his nose, on his forehead, on his eyelid, on his eyepatch, on his scars, on his jaw, on his lips.

They lay, tangled in each other, telling each other stories with their touches. A soft rain began to fall, and they ended up falling asleep in each other’s arms.

**  
  
**

Jean awoke, feeling warm and heavy. He pushed the blanket off of him, and smelled bacon. He looked to the kitchen, where Marco stood, frying up a pan of eggs and bacon.

“Good morning,” Marco said, smiling blissfully.

Jean couldn’t help the grin that appeared on his face. It wasn’t a dream. This was real. “Goodmorning.”

“I made an appointment with that doctor for next tuesday. Also, I told my mom about last night… all of last night.” They both blushed a little, but kept eye contact and kept smiling.

Jean sighed, as a sour realization hit. “I should tell my parents. Not like they care, but I’ll have to tell them eventually.”

“You could just text your mom, since she never replies,” Marco suggested, eyes sympathetic.

Jean ran a hand through his hair. “I guess I’ll do that.” Jean searched his pockets for his phone, but then remembered what happened. “Shit,” he cursed, sitting back on the bar stool.

Marco looked at him, worriedly flipping an egg. “What? What is it?”

Jean flushed, embarrassed at the consequences of his outburst. “I, um, shattered my phone screen.”

Marco was quiet for a minute, and Jean couldn’t tell what he was thinking because Marco’s back was turned. Then he heard an eruption of giggles, and Marco doubled over, laughing his ass off.

“It’s not funny!” Jean protested, feeling heat build up in his cheeks.

Marco laughed harder at that, and wrapped his arms around his torso, struggling to contain himself.

“It’s not that funny! And you’re gonna burn the eggs!”

Marco ended up on the floor, incapacitated, trying to breathe, while Jean got the food onto the plates. He couldn’t stop himself from sputtering a few laughs, but he didn’t know why he was laughing. It wasn’t funny. MAybe it was Marco, on the floor, spasming with laughter.

“You totally threw a temper tantrum, didn’t you?” Marco said, wiping a tear from his good eye.

Jean’s face contorted in an attempt to be calm, and told Marco to shut up, which only made Marco laugh even harder. Jean grabbed his plate and went to sit and eat, acting petulant.

Marco calmed himself down and come over with his own food, and kissed Jean’s head before sitting down. “Sorry, but you’re so funny sometimes, I can’t help myself.”

“Hmmf,” Jean said through a mouth full of food.

Marco shook his head. “You know you love me.”

At that, Jean couldn’t help but smile. “Of course I do.”

 


	18. Epilogue

Two Years Later

“Marco!” Jean keened, as Marco plunged deeper into him, harder, hitting that perfect spot. He clung to Marco, his nails digging into Marco’s back. Jean buried his face into Marco’s shoulder. “Marco, I’m gonna cum!” Marco thrust into Jean once more, and Jean tilted his head back, crying out. Marco leaned over him, coiled like a cat ready to pounce, before he released into Jean.  He slowly pulled out, and cleaned up the mess they’d made before joining Jean back in bed.

“I love you,” Marco whispered, before kissing Jean’s swollen lips.

Jean smiled under Marco’s mouth. How could he forget? “I love you, too.”

Marco crawled over to Jean’s other side, and lay down. He pulled Jean close, cuddling his love against his chest. There was no way he’d ever let him go.

“Jean?”

“Yeah?” he replied, his voice heavy with exhaustion, but still filled with the euphoria of his climax.

“Do you want to get married?”

Marco felt Jean’s breath hitch, and watched as Jean sat up and stared down at him. “Yes. Yes, I do.” He smiled, tears threatening to spill. Marco smiled back, and kissed him gently.

Jean lay back down against Marco’s chest, thoughts running wildly through his head. “Holy shit, there’s so much to think about. When are we going to do it? We have to tell people. Do you think Eren and Armin would want to come, or do you think that would make them feel awkward? Would they still feel awkward about that? What I did with Eren was forever ago, and they’re together now, so it shouldn’t matter, right? Oh, and we have to rent out a club for the reception, I require a full bar and a dancefloor. What do you think?"

Marco was about to answer, but Jean cut him off.

"Oh! What are we going to do about my parents?" Jean searched Marco's eyes for an answer.

"I dont know, but we have time to figure it out. So don't worry." Marco said, soothingly, rhythmically brushing his fingers through Jean's hair.

"Oh my god," Jean breathed, smiling incredulously. "We're going to be married." He let out a nervous giggle. "That's so weird. And old."

"We are not old," Marco argued.

"No," Jean said with a smile. "But we are gonna be married."

"Yeah, we are," Marco said with a smile, brushing a kiss on Jean's forehead.

**  
**

It was then, that despite all the troubles to come, that they both knew they’d gotten their happily ever after.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end. Check out my profile for more fics!

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it.


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